744. Space. Special Musicians.
April 1.
How magical it was, the way thousands of people ran across the dunes of Tunisia, recreating a battle; a single day alone cost a million euros. But it was worth every cent, because it was a true thematic spectacle in which thousands of people ran back and forth. Some wielded their lightsabers.
-Are you happy with it?- Billy asked, looking at Raimon, dressed in an alien costume with a robe; sweat poured down his body, and his breathing faltered.
-It’s the best day of my life,- Raimon replied, utterly overwhelmed, filled with that feeling of being part of one of the greatest sagas in history. He took whatever roles he could—robot, droid, Jedi, Jabba… he would do anything, any role they gave him, along with his friends who were fans of that world.
-I hope it truly is,- Billy answered, weighing the end of the role and the shoot, since he would now do a small recording of Tatooine with Padmé/Natalie for the film. The set lay in a small orchard that faced the desert a hundred steps away—reddish sand filled with a magical, living quality. In some places, they even grew grapevines. It was entirely plausible: pineapples grew in that heat, needing only constant care, along with eggplants shielded from the brutal midday sun. All of it gave the script an unmatched texture, a magical way of observing cinema and the idea of Tatooine as something tangible and corporeal. Meanwhile, Lucas and Billy were already shaping the idea of the Hutts, long before the Jedi were known, through short stories stored from different angles that made the universe rich in essence.
He took a bite of lemon. Sweet. The drink was a bit of wine, with bread and chicken in small bites. The day of shooting was ending, and even though night was falling, the day still felt present. Winds lulled everyone who had worked under the scorching sun. They had waited for a day with lower temperatures, but everything was unbearable, even if their skin had turned bronze.
-I really love the way I got to be part of something I never imagined I would be. I’m the smelly, fat Raimon. Now I’m the man who has a life unfolding and holds small roles in one of the series I watched as a kid, at least a hundred times. I’ve changed. That makes everyone who insulted me a loser. And I think I’m meant to do more; I think I can start events, tournaments—everything is within my reach… at least everything that doesn’t involve beautiful women, because there I’m still the smelly Raimon,- the young man replied. A stereotype, perhaps, but in the end a man with a child’s heart, and it hurt—like a thousand knives.
-The words of teenagers are harsh. But they don’t stop anyone; your talents are focused on gathering information and, of course, on operations—financial or entertainment-related. Better times will come,- Billy replied, closing the matter.
Sometimes words needed nothing extra—just the right touch. One sentence. Raimon seemed to understand his place in the world better than most.
…
They took enough time for night to arrive, and everything ended when the stars emerged in the sky. Everyone was already in their respective places; the entire battle had concluded. So many takes were filmed, from so many angles, that George would have material to recycle for future days—even though they were paid only twenty euros a day, and even though they trained for a week, and even though each person walked away with six hundred euros just for moving in circles, filled with panic.
-Seems like we’re lucky,- Lucas commented to Steven. They were close friends, known to each other for nearly two decades, sharing experiences across eras.
-Very lucky. I think it turned out even better than I imagined, and now I understand what my production of Saving Private Ryan will be like,- Spielberg replied, bringing the project to a culminating point, a moment where everything aligned into a single step—majestic—because it was an ode, an idea long postponed due to technical issues.
-What a producer. George, in the ’70s, you already had a sense of how to cultivate large crews. Now we’re pushing that idea to its limit. And you created this,- Spielberg whispered, already seeing the finished image of the film, with Lucasfilm’s special effects and Digital Domain’s effects beside it—building the world for different reasons: polish, climate, that wonderful range where everything coheres into a sudden creative impulse.
-I realized that making these kinds of scenes is like guiding a march, fast, in two directions: the panoramic direction and the director’s vision; everything must serve a sense of the camera. You’re good at it, and I understand it through experience,- Lucas said.
Both men took their time choosing each word. It fascinated them in its own way. Charged with energy, Spielberg admired Billy’s acting; he revealed a face exactly when needed. His clean style was sharp when it came to conveying silence—those emotions carried by no sharp wind. Billy’s abilities always surfaced when the director least expected it, and when they did, they were brilliant: flashes of talent, millimetric moments lasting only seconds. They appeared unexpectedly, making him precise for unique moments; that was why he was loved, and why he was hated. For some time now, it had been clear that people themselves were bound by time.
-I really like that piece of music,- Spielberg commented, now knowing how difficult it was to provoke emotion through those who sat before him. In those ways, everything took off, and through seemingly mundanemeanss she wanted to add something to Saving Private Ryan—the way classical music moved Lucas, and opera carried him elsewhere, perhaps making them forget time altogether.
-The woman adds a dignified touch, almost wonderful,- Lucas replied, framing the shot, the music coming from one side. -I think that when people hear it, they’ll linger longer, absorbed in a world of love, while everything seems good, everything seems beautiful, everything seems worthy of a chance. While the galaxy trembles and darkness falls, everything vibrates, everything bites beneath the shadows. The end of an era.-
-You really like this series,- Spielberg remarked.
-We have three series planned for the next three years, and three more animated series—and well, an animated film, before part three of this trilogy is released,- Lucas said, raising his eyebrows, radiating strong character as future projects took shape.
-It seems very intense,- Spielberg commented.
...